When it Rains....

I would have killed for a close up view of some sloppy plumber butt last night.

It took me a while to muster up the nerve to venture into the basement and look for clues as to why my shower was freezing cold. As I approached the utility room, the noise sounded vaguely familiar, kind of like Niagara Falls. Yes, the hot water heater was spewing water from its every pore, creating an impressive puddle in the middle of the -- mercifully -- empty floor.

With some telephonic encouragement from a builder friend, I managed to shut off the valve and stop the flow. Things weren't so bad. I could rush to the health club in the morning to take a shower and still be home in time for my taxi to the airport so I can spend a relaxing few days visiting my mother. With hot water in her pipes, even she's starting to look good.

Having temporarily stemmed the tide, I went up to my bedroom, where I fully intended to enjoy a solid night's sleep. Manny has been boarded already (the dog lady is very strict about not doing drop-offs or pick-ups on Tuesday, so I gleefully brought him to her on Monday evening) and I was looking forward to a slumber uninterrupted by the sound of my blind dog peeing somewhere in the house. Naturally, I thought I was hallucinating when I heard the sound of running water in my bathroom, Manny's urinal of choice from the night before.

I listened for a while, and finally realized the tinkling sound was quite real, and not even Manny could keep his leg raised that long. Yes, the shower, which was now only capable of spritzing freezing cold water, was dripping. Not the kind of slow "drip drip" that, albeit annoying, can wait until morning, but a deluge that had already managed to soak the bathmat outside the shower stall.

I tried everything. I kicked the faucet repeatedly. I twisted the shower head every which way as icy water dripped all the way up my arm to my armpit and then down the front of my tee shirt. I screwed and unscrewed hardware and looked on line for instructions, only to find out that I was not, under any circumstances, supposed to use something called plumber's dope. Frankly, I don't know what's so bad about the plumber's dope, but I certainly was willing to take the risk and smoke some.

With the help of another friend, I located the water shut off valve and managed to officially rid the pipes in my house of all flowing liquid. No biggie; I was already counting on the health club for my shower, so I would just pee and brush my teeth there as well. I was low on toilet paper anyway.

Like I said, some good old fashioned plumber butt would have been a welcome sight.